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A Heroine of France 
 
The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Heroine of France, by Evelyn 
Everett-Green 
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Title: A Heroine of France 
Author: Evelyn Everett-Green 
Release Date: September 19, 2004 [eBook #13500] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HEROINE 
OF FRANCE*** 
E-text prepared by Martin Robb 
 
A HEROINE OF FRANCE
The Story of Joan of Arc 
by 
EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN 
 
Contents 
CHAPTER I. 
HOW I FIRST HEARD OF THE MAID. 
CHAPTER II. 
HOW I FIRST SAW THE MAID. 
CHAPTER III. 
HOW THE MAID CAME TO VAUCOULEURS. 
CHAPTER IV. 
HOW THE MAID WAS TRIED AND TESTED. 
CHAPTER V. 
HOW THE MAID JOURNEYED TO CHINON. 
CHAPTER VI. 
HOW THE MAID CAME TO THE KING. 
CHAPTER VII. 
HOW THE MAID WAS HINDERED; YET MADE PREPARATION.
CHAPTER VIII. 
HOW THE MAID MARCHED FOR ORLEANS. 
CHAPTER IX. 
HOW THE MAID ASSUMED COMMAND AT ORLEANS. 
CHAPTER X. 
HOW THE MAID LED US INTO BATTLE. 
CHAPTER XI. 
HOW THE MAID BORE TRIUMPH AND TROUBLE. 
CHAPTER XII. 
HOW THE MAID RAISED THE SIEGE. 
CHAPTER XIII. 
HOW THE MAID WON A NEW NAME. 
CHAPTER XIV. 
HOW THE MAID CLEARED THE KING'S WAY. 
CHAPTER XV. 
HOW THE MAID RODE WITH THE KING. 
CHAPTER XVI. 
HOW THE MAID ACCOMPLISHED HER MISSION. 
CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THE MAID WAS PERSUADED. 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
HOW I LAST SAW THE MAID. 
CHAPTER I. 
HOW I FIRST HEARD OF THE MAID. 
"The age of Chivalry--alas!--is dead. The days of miracles are past and 
gone! What future is there for hapless France? She lies in the dust. How 
can she hope to rise?" 
Sir Guy de Laval looked full in our faces as he spoke these words, and 
what could one reply? Ah me!--those were sad and sorrowful days for 
France--and for those who thought upon the bygone glories of the past, 
when she was mistress of herself, held high her head, and was a power 
with hostile nations. What would the great Charlemagne say, could he 
see us now? What would even St. Louis of blessed memory feel, could 
he witness the changes wrought by only a century and a half? Surely it 
were enough to cause them to turn in their graves! The north lying 
supine at the feet of the English conqueror; licking his hand, as a dog 
licks that of his master, lost to all sense of shame that an English infant 
in his cradle (so to speak) should rule through a regent the fair realm of 
France, whilst its own lawful King, banished from his capital and from 
half his kingdom, should keep his Court at Bourges or Chinon, passing 
his days in idle revelry, heedless of the eclipse of former greatness, 
careless of the further aggressions threatened by the ever-encroaching 
foe. 
Was Orleans to fall next into the greedy maw of the English 
adventurers? Was it not already threatened? And how could it be saved 
if nothing could rouse the King from his slothful indifference? O for 
the days of Chivalry!--the days so long gone by! 
Whilst I, Jean de Novelpont, was musing thus, a curious look 
overshadowed the face of Bertrand de Poulengy, our comrade and
friend, with whom, when we had said adieu to Sir Guy a few miles 
farther on, I was to return to Vaucouleurs, to pay a long-promised visit 
there. I had been journeying awhile with Sir Guy in Germany, and he 
was on his way to the Court at Chinon; for we were all of the 
Armagnac party, loyal to our rightful monarch, whether King or only 
Dauphin still, since he had not been crowned, and had adopted no truly 
regal state or authority; and we were earnestly desirous of seeing him 
awaken from his lethargy and put himself at the head of an army, 
resolved to drive out the invaders from the land, and be King of France 
in truth as well as in name. But so far it seemed as though nothing short 
of a miracle would effect this, and the days of miracles, as Sir Guy had 
said, were now past and gone. 
Then came the voice of Bertrand, speaking in low tones, as a man 
speaks who communes with himself; but we heard him, for we were 
riding over the thick moss of the forest glade, and the horses' feet sank 
deep and noiseless in the sod, and our fellows had fallen far behind, so 
that their laughter and talk no longer broke upon our ears. The dreamy 
stillness of    
    
		
	
	
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